Wu-Tang Clan - Meteor Hammer (feat. Action Bronson & Termanology)

[Verse 1 - Ghostface Killah] I don’t touch that swine I want that unnecessary beef You smoke garbage buds We smoke tons of keef Fishing, looking for that big-mouth bass And flashing, jack your whole stash In fashion, keep my goons lined In an orderly fashion It’s glossy with 500 horsies in the Benz Tinted out to spend the night You ain’t got angel funds is low, stack Your bitch been ho-jacked Still scoop her up, bring her home And blow that, cause Ghost be mostly Looking pretty toasty Front row at Mayweather vs. Mosley With a Bin Laden bottle A Brazillian model Got the paparazzi jumping Like they hit the Lotto Party hard, like I”m fresh Out of the cages I rages like Charlie Sheen out in Vegas [Verse 2] You drop your pants at your ankles At the urinal at a ballgame I’m on the stool getting brain From a tall dame, cause I’m 5’8” Shorty like 6’2” Feed her coke, locked jaw Like a pitbull. I was born to rep You fucking with a hornet’s nest Old shooters in the corner like hornacek Young boys that be handling the rock Chris Paul dish off, hammer in the sock Gold flakes in the Gold Schlager The ammo green XJ12, you know the old Jaguar Got the burch wood lacing the interior Poppy bagels getting flavored out in Syria Only the Fonz, best laced plates Cheese that reach maturity, dick sucks from Shannon Doherty Take your temperature anally and orally Make a batch of home drizzle royally with oil [Verse 3 - Termanology] Hopping out the Rolly Royce Rolls Gold nouveau Diamond-studded shoes, so Flyest nigga you know Puerto Rican version of Scarface Fuck with the God’s say Disrespect, piss in your broad’s face Chains stay chunky like Oprah’s belly Got the purple and the brown: Peanut butter and jelly When I step up in the spot with the rock You’ll see the popular pop rappers Go in their pocket and pull out their wallet When I click-clack, now get up on the ground Cause I Onyx, Pete Rock, Chuck D shut em down You know Term, I’m the kid with the ‘preme beats Butter Pecan J Lo, kid with the mean cheeks Boobies on my gold fronts, iced out note book Making volcanos in the kitchen when the coke cook I rode around with all kinds of thugs High on drugs, pissing out tiger blood